The American

Mike reminded me today that Levon Helm is the sole and great American in The Band.  I say "is" because I'm assuming he's still alive, but it seems like a minute to minute thing. The family is already making its "final stages of his battle" announcements. Then Matt passed on a Robbie Robertson facebook post to me. It was sad. And Matt said that no grudge is so big that you can't get past it. But that's the kind of guy Matt is. "You'd think he would have learned after Danko and Manny died," he said. But nope. Music is a funny thing like that. It's not just a job, it's everything. It's your soul on display. Every ounce of your emotion is in it. Everything's on the table when your a musician. And so even a minor offense or disagreement, can cause to damage of epic proportion. And oh yea, there's money. My father always said that your best friend will sooner forgive you for a punch in the face, then for stiffing him 20 bucks. Money makes people act funny.

Robertson owns almost all the publishing and songwriting royalties. The common picture painted is that he and only he made the decision to leave The Band, and set out for a more Hollywood driven path with his new pal Marty Scorsese. The Last Waltz (directed by Scorsese) was his last hurrah, and became an utter ode to Robertson, leaving people like Richard Manuel barely a shot. Helms blamed Robertsons departure and greed for Manny's ultimate suicide in 1986, Robertson blamed Helms pressuring of Manny to join the restructured lineup of the band for the same tragedy. The feud continued for decades. Until apparently Levon is on his deathbed, and Robertson has kind words. Fuck that I say.

Matt was right, no grudge should be that big. Especially after all they had created together. But it was, and neither of them made it right. Amends at the deathbed don't count. That's convenient and cliche. A total copout. Robertson gets to visit Levon and essentially say, "I outlasted you."  The consensus says Robertson's an asshole, and maybe he is. But it doesn't change anything, and for Levon it's over.

I'll always remember him as distinctly unique. When I was young he was "the drummer that sang." Not Henley or Collins. His vocal style was soulful but dusty. Old before its time. His drumming was distinctly driven, yet soulful and smooth when necessary. And even after the first bout with Throat Cancer that left him visibly older, he still had that Sandbox Style I love. He'd be hunched over, immersed in his kit with this childlike smile on his face.  There's no one else like him. I saw him with Steve Earle at the Beacon theater in late 2010. Levon was front stage right, and we got a great look at him. He seemed pretty damn healthy.

I was pretty damn upset when I heard Amy Winehouse died, but I wasn't surprised. With Levon, I'm not surprised, but I'm shaken. I never got to a ramble upstate New York. I'll forever be disappointed in myself for not having been more proactive about it. Sometimes things slip through the cracks, it happens. But it shouldn't have with that. We'll miss him that's for sure, as we watch another great go from life to legend.